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Coronavirus nearly killed me ~ by Anayo Nwosu

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Yes! I was infected.

I am suffering from it.

I’m still recovering.

I’m in isolation.

Don’t join the chorus of those who for whatever reasons or alliances choose to say or publish things that could make gullible but innocent people loosen their guards on this dangerous virus manufactured from the pit of hell.

I write this piece from the throne of grace or the protective custody of my creator. Perhaps, it’s simply not yet time for me to die finally because I died and resurrected. I used my eyes to see my two ears. I, Ikenga Ezenwegbu, was practically joining my ancestors until something asked me to come down from the bus to urinate.

And I came down.

The fever was so much that my bed sheet was boiling in a pot of hot sweats oozing from my body.  The coughing was at another level. It would come like a tide of raised waves from the ocean threatening to pull down or collapse my rib cage.

It came in torrents. It hurt each time it came. It was easier to race up to the climax of Ugwu Ekwensu or Ekwensu hill at Ụkpọ than to complete a full circle of breathing. I had to use my mouth to breathe like Kunle’s Ekuke dogs.

I was gifted in that the switches controlling my sleep and my troubles have never been co-located. I have always found ways of sleeping even under life-liquidating problems or situations to the amazement of most people around me.

So, on the Day 3 of the COVID-19 high fever night, I fell asleep, a slumbering one for that matter but not without my nasal musical melodies my wife deride as snoring. The sleep was a respite.

Then, I found myself inside a bus, a beautiful, clean, spacious and luxurious bus with so many not happy looking passengers. The conductor was busy loading more people into the bus.

While in the bus, I observed that I couldn’t make out the faces of other passengers but many of them appeared familiar. I couldn’t also locate the direction where the driver was seated.

The vehicle would on a breath look like a luxurious bus and in another look like a wide-bodied aircraft used from London to US. It was that large.

The bus was set to depart when I shouted at the conductor, “abeg make I piss”, I wanted to ease myself.

He wouldn’t listen to me hence stoking my suspicion that this bus meant no well for me. I didn’t also know or ask for its destination. I had to take my destiny in my own hands.

I had perfected a way of breaking surreal dreams right from childhood. I would just wake up and would refuse to complete the dream.

I believe that many souls have been lost by the dreamers carelessly completing dangerous dreams. Not me! Not now!

I forced myself out of the bus to go and “piss” only to rattle my wife who was praying by my side as she was worried about the never receding fever.

My wife listened with rapt attention as I told her about my bus experience and she was happy that I jumped down to “piss”.

“My darling, you did well to have come down from that ill-fated bus”, my wife commended me with fear of possible widowhood clearly etched all over her.

She had witnessed a couple of our friends yield to COVID-19. It was as if it was our turn. But my friends didn’t go to prison naa. It would have been a disproportionate load on my innocent wife.

But, I never went back to bed nor returned to sleep that night to avoid being kidnapped into that bus. I guessed that the bus was used to collect victims of coronavirus. Not me. I was scared.

Until I crossed the most challenging period of the sickness, I ensured that I broke my sleeps. I never entered any bus, aircraft or even Keke Napep in my sleep.

Thank God my family members tested negative. I was alone in this. I had skipped my morning and night inhalation most times. I won’t make that kind of mistake again.

My dear friends, please wear your face masks. Follow the instructions from NCDC. Avoid crowded areas. Wash your hands with water and soap.

I must have dropped the ball somehow and nearly died for so doing.

That was how my great plans for Xmas and New Year including my books’ launch took the back seat. Of greater pain is missing traveling to Nnewi during Xmas/New Year.

No real Nnewi man commits such a mortal sin. I will also miss my secondary school old boys’ reunion which preparation I anchored. What’s primary for me now is to get well.

If you had invited me to your function and you surprisingly didn’t see me, you now know that “man and things are doing”. I was and still am battling to stay alive. And I will overcome by God’s grace.

Once again, God has delivered me! Glory be His Name!

Thanks for your prayers and good wishes.

Anayo Nwosu, Ikenga Ezenwegbu

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